Growing Up Grady
by Lord Kristine
Summary: This is the story of Owen Grady. This is how he learned what he knows. This is why he feels the way he feels. This is how it all began.
1. Childhood

Owen has a tendency to ignore good advice. When his mother tells him to be home by sundown and to avoid dark alleys, he doesn't listen. It's not his fault; he just wants to explore a world that is strange to him. There are so many bizarre rituals that he wants to understand. What exactly are those men doing under a lamppost at eight o'clock at night? Why does that lady in the funny tights always stand by the gas station? Why is the family in the trailer beside theirs always yelling? These are mysteries that he wants to solve. He rides his bike at night, exploring this secret world in a drive-by kind of way. He ignores his mother's warnings. But after one of his expeditions, he is given advice that he _will_ remember.

He is riding down a gravel-covered road when it happens. His front wheel slips on a pile of pebbles, and he falls on the cracked asphalt. After the initial shock wears off, his lip starts to quiver. He looks at his knees, and they are badly scraped. There is blood dripping down his leg. He stands up unsteadily, still shaken from the fall. With red eyes, he limps back to the trailer, leaning on his bike for support.

When his mother sees what has happened, she rushes over and examines the wound. Owen explains how he fell, with a quaver in his voice. His father looks up from his newspaper and frowns.

"Lock up the bike, Dolores. Someone's gonna steal it, and I'll be damned if I have to pay for another one."

She does as she's told, then carries Owen over to the kitchen counter. She rummages through the medicine cabinet and shakes up a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Owen watches her, tears trickling down his cheeks. When she soaks the cotton ball, she gives Owen a meaningful look.

"This is gonna sting, pumpkin, but that means it's working. It'll make you better, okay?"

Owen whimpers as she presses the swab against his knee. His father glares at him with contempt.

"What's all the noise about?"

Owen chokes a little.

"It hurts."

His father grumbles.

"Owen, real men don't cry. Crying is for the lesser species. Dogs cry. Mice cry. Are you a man or a mouse?"

Owen sniffles.

"I don't know."

Owen flinches preemptively as his father stands up.

"Are you going to keep crying like that?" he barks.

Owen shakes his head.

"I'm not a mouse."

His father sits back down. For some reason, this bit of advice sticks. For a very long time, Owen believes that real men don't cry. He's never seen his father cry, nor any other adult, for that matter. He decides that not crying is a part of growing up. But his theory doesn't hold.

Owen's world is turned upside-down one day when he finds his mother crying in the kitchen. Like any child witnessing their parent in a state of emotional distress, he is terrified. His mother is supposed to be the protector, yet she's showing signs of weakness. Owen is too afraid to approach her at first, but when he does, she doesn't seem to notice him. He puts his hand on her arm. Suddenly, she lifts her head and sniffs loudly.

"Your father is gone."

Owen cocks his head.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"When is he coming back?"

"He's never coming back."

These words hit Owen like a ton of bricks. They're so shocking that he can't bring himself to believe them. How could a person just leave their home? What could possibly be more important than the life his father has left behind? Owen has so many questions, but he gets the feeling that he won't understand any of the answers. Grown-up problems have very strange reasons for existing, and most of the nuances behind adulthood are beyond his comprehension. He doesn't understand jobs or bills or taxes. Those are the things his father is in charge of. But now his father is gone. His mom says he's never coming back. Could it be true?

Owen rides his bike for longer than usual that night. He wants to know where his father has gone to. Maybe he's decided to live with the barkeep or the man who runs the smoke shop. He couldn't have gone too far. People don't just leave the place where they live, do they?

Owen glides down the sidewalk, searching in every direction. He passes by many people, but he doesn't see his father. He asks the woman by the gas station if she's seen him, but she tells him that she hasn't been with anyone since two days ago. Owen doesn't understand what she means, but if she hasn't seen his father, she's of no use to him anyway. Eventually, it gets too dark to see, and he is forced to go home.

His mother is still crying. Owen doesn't know how to approach her about this, so he simply ignores her. He slips into bed, still wearing his daytime clothes, and tries to fall asleep. Somehow, he isn't able to. He can't stop thinking about his father. If he really is gone forever, who's going to do jobs and bills and taxes? His mother can't do it. She's upset, and real adults shouldn't cry like that. But Owen hasn't cried. Not since he fell off of his bike.

That night, Owen makes a decision. If his mother can't be an adult, he'll just have to replace his father instead. Even if he doesn't know how to deal with adult problems, he can learn. He learned how to ride a bike and buy groceries, after all. Why should this be any different?

Owen makes a vow to do his best to be the adult of the family. No longer is he the child who explores the world just for the sake of it. He's going to strive towards a greater goal. It's time to be a man, not a mouse. And no matter what, he will never, ever cry again.


	2. Adolescence

Owen doesn't have much time for school. He's too busy supporting his mother. He has made an arrangement with Mr. Von Hellerman at the grocery store, who lets him do the chores of an assistant. At the age of twelve, Owen is too young to work, but he is being paid under the table. In Owen's neighborhood, the law is more of a suggestion than an order. When you're at the bottom of the food chain, playing by the rules gets you nowhere. If you want to survive, you have to be brave enough to defy authority.

Nobody ever catches Owen in his illegal pursuits, and it's for the best. He's still the breadwinner of the family, and that's not about to change as long as his mother stays unemployed. Owen's father still hasn't returned. Even after seven years, he still hopes that he'll change his mind and come back to his family. A part of him believes that it's possible. If his father _does_ happen to stroll up to the trailer unexpectedly, Owen is more than prepared for his arrival. He writes a letter each year so that he'll be able to tell him about everything that has happened since he was gone. There's not much to tell.

Life is rather monotonous in such a small town. Every day, Owen gets up at five and walks to the grocery store. He had to sell his bike so that his mother could pay the man who runs the trailer park. The fresh morning air always clears his head, and he has time to think. Owen thinks about simple things, like how he's going to accommodate extra expenses or how he's going to make it home by dark. Other times, he thinks about his mother. She drinks a lot. Owen has a vague idea that she's consuming too much alcohol for her own good, but he doesn't do anything about it. Even so, it's starting to put stress on his budget, and should be corrected as soon as possible.

It's hard to earn a salary that supports two people. Owen considers working two jobs, but he's barely managing with one. His trailer is about an hour away from the grocery store, and he has no better way of traveling. He doesn't want to use the truck, because he can't afford the gas money, and he doesn't have a license. He wishes that he had a bike again, but he knows that he can't afford it. Every time he tries to save up, his mother sneaks into his room and takes the extra cash. He'll either have to confront her about it or find a better hiding place. For now, he can just pretend that it isn't happening.

Owen's life isn't _all_ bad, however. There's a girl who comes to the grocery store every week with her mother, and he enjoys her company. The girl's name is Jeannie, and she's very nice to Owen. She often wears shirts that are too loose and shorts that are too short, and her hair is always pulled up in a messy ponytail with a neon scrunchie. She's about the closest thing he has to a friend.

Owen has always suspected that his life isn't what other people would consider normal. He's not well-educated, for one thing, and he doesn't do any of the activities he reads about in books. Children are supposed to play, but Owen is always working. That's fine by him, since he's the adult of the house now, but something about the way people react to his situation sits wrong with him. They always give him looks of pity, and that's when they aren't too ashamed to make eye contact with him.

One day, when Jeannie's mother is busy shopping, Owen has a little talk with his best friend. They chat about school or the lack thereof. They talk about the weather and how it's affecting the farmers. Then, somehow, they get to talking about birthdays.

"My mom's getting me a fancy cake this year. It's one of the special ones with your name written right on it in pink frosting. You ever had one of those?"

Owen shakes his head.

"We don't celebrate my birthdays anymore," he says simply.

"Why not?"

"That's kids' stuff."

"You _are_ a kid."

"Not really," Owen replies with a shrug.

Jeannie pops her gum.

"That's real sad. Not having birthdays, I mean."

Owen twists his mouth.

"I have them. I just don't celebrate."

Jeannie rolls her eyes.

"Well, if _I_ never had a birthday, I think I'd be awfully upset."

"I don't get upset."

"I noticed. I saw Mr. Von Hellerman smack you the other day."

Owen nods.

"I knocked over the soup display."

"I saw. If that were me, I'd start crying."

"I don't cry."

Jeannie laughs.

"What do you mean?"

"Real men don't cry," Owen explains.

"They say crying is good for you. It helps you deal with stress."

"I don't cry. I'm not an animal."

Jeannie snorts as she giggles hysterically, holding her gum between her molars.

"Animals don't cry. Only humans cry. I guess that means you're not human."

Owen frowns.

"Animals cry."

Jeannie shakes her head.

"Where did you get a harebrained idea like _that_?"

"My father told me," Owen declares.

Jeannie raises her eyebrow.

"Well, he was wrong. What a stupid thing to tell a kid! You shouldn't believe everything he tells you."

"He knows more than _you_."

"How do you know?"

"He's an adult."

"Adults can be dumb, too."

"My father isn't dumb."

"How do you know? My mom says you haven't seen him since you were five."

They don't speak again after that.


	3. Youth

Owen has a girlfriend. Her name is Pilvi and she's a science major. Owen has never been in a relationship with someone this sophisticated before. She's not exactly a golf and country club type, but she's a lot richer than he is. Not that that's a hard thing to accomplish. They have fun talking about small, menial things, and Owen finds room in his budget to pay for the extra expenses she brings about. He doesn't do it begrudgingly: he's really grown to like her.

One night, they go to a drive-in movie together. Owen doesn't own a car, so they sit on the hill behind the parking lot. They're too far to hear the movie properly, but Owen has other things on his mind. Every time he tries to make a move, however, she swoops away like a frightened seagull. Eventually, Owen gives up and settles on talking to her.

"Have you ever lived on a ranch?" she asks.

"No. Why?"

"You seem like the ranch type. I always wanted to be a ranch girl," she says whimsically.

"Why?"

"Lots of livestock to keep you company."

"Like what? Cows?"

"No, horses. Nobody likes cows."

"I like cows. They're gentle, 'cept when they try to defend their babies. I ain't never seen a cow that didn't love her calf. They're good mothers."

"My mother died when I was eight," Pilvi says sadly.

Owen looks at his shoes.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. My family has a history of heart disease. I don't want to die the same way."

Owen doesn't reply. He glances at the movie screen. There's a giant rat monster being covered in cement. He wonders what kind of a movie it's supposed to be. Probably not a good one.

"If I were to die, would you come to my funeral?" Pilvi asks.

"Absolutely."

"Would you cry?"

"I never cry."

"Maybe you haven't found someone that you love enough to make you cry," Pilvi speculates, cuddling up closer to him.

"I don't think that's true. I love my mom, but I wouldn't cry if she died."

"Why not?"

"Because if I cry, I'm just letting him win."

"What?"

Owen clears his throat.

"I'm letting them win. People, I mean. If I cry, it means no one will ever take me seriously again."

"I'd take you seriously. I love you."

Owen smiles.

"Thank you. Would you cry if I died?"

"Definitely."

Pilvi smiles up at him with a sparkle in her eye. Owen runs his hand through her hair. They turn to the movie screen, which now shows rolling credits. Owen wraps his arm around her waist and looks up at the stars.

"Are we going to be together forever?"

"I hope so."

They will break up in three weeks. Pilvi will cry, but not out of sorrow. She's mad at Owen. He won't remember why, but he'll have a general sense that he said something wrong. In any case, he has more important things to worry about. His mother's drinking has gotten worse. Owen loves her, but sometimes she makes him really angry. They get into arguments over her addiction. She's even hit him once or twice. What really hurts is when she blames him for his father's departure. He never has anything to say after that.

It suddenly occurs to him that nothing is about to change. Although Owen is clever, he's uneducated, which means that his career options are limited, at best. He can't keep relying on odd jobs and minimum wage occupations. He will have to find some way to turn his life around. He's sick of having people feel sorry for him. He wants to be better than that. Real men earn respect, not pity.

One day, the answer comes to him. There's only one place for a man like him to make a decent salary, but he'll need to leave his mother in order to do so. The idea will most definitely be met with resistance from her side. After supper, he sits her down on a park bench to discuss his plan.

"I just don't see why you're so anxious to leave me," she mutters resentfully, "We're a family. We have to stick together."

Owen nods.

"I know, Ma. That's why I'm leaving. I need to make sure that nothing goes wrong. We need financial security. If I can get us out of this dump-"

"This is your _home_ , Owen," she chokes, "You can't leave town. You've never even left the state!"

He puts his hand on her arm.

"I know, Ma, but I have to. We can't keep living like this."

"Can't you find a job in town?"

"I don't have a proper education."

"You have talent," she insists, "I've heard you sing."

Owen shakes his head.

"I can't sing in front of people, and besides, singing doesn't pay the bills."

"What if it's your dream?"

"My only dream is to have a better life. I need to go, Ma. I promise, things will change for the better."

His mother is crying now. She sniffs and wipes her eye.

"You're all I got left, Owen. Without you . . ."

"I'm not leaving forever, Ma," Owen says gently, taking her hand, "I just need some time to figure things out."

She hiccups and looks out at the setting sun with teary eyes.

"Owen . . ."

He squeezes her hand.

"It's gonna be okay, Ma. I promise, I'll be back in a few years, and we can start a new life."

She looks into his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

She whimpers and buries her face in her hands.

"So, that's it, then? You're just leaving?"

Owen nods.

"I'm going to join the Navy."


	4. Manhood

The Navy isn't as bad as Owen expected it to be. His crew hardly sees any action, and when they do, their mission often consists of rescuing stupid rich people who sunk their sailboats in hard-to-reach places. There isn't much trouble in the realm of taking orders either. The strict attitude of the naval officers isn't anything new: Owen has been yelled at by _many_ people for _many_ reasons. He'd take a good talking to over being backhanded by Von Hellerman any day.

Owen has made friends in the Navy. Well, perhaps the term "friend" is not one hundred percent accurate. As far as Owen can tell, friends aren't supposed to be mean to you. These people are. They call him names like "Trailer Trash" and "Rat". It wouldn't normally bother him, but that last name tends to irk Owen more than anything else in the world. It's far too similar to "Mouse", and a mouse he is not.

One sure-fire way to keep them from calling him names is to divert their attention. This is often done by shifting the name-calling to other men. One particular victim has been taking most of the heat recently. Owen isn't proud of the things he says to him, because they often linger around the subject of race. He doesn't believe what he's saying, of course, but he has to be cruel to get the attention of his peers. They join him in calling the man names that Owen never wishes to repeat, and for a while, they get away with it. Then, one day, things go horribly wrong.

Owen is called to a meeting with his supervisor. He walks by the man he's been bullying on the way in, and immediately knows what it's about. He sits down in front of his boss with a massive knot in his stomach. This isn't going to be good.

His supervisor informs him that there is zero tolerance for these kinds of remarks, and threatens to send him home. Owen can't allow that to happen. Too much is riding on this job. By the end of the meeting, he's practically begging to stay. His supervisor lets him off with a warning.

When Owen heads back to his bunk, he passes the man who ratted him out. It seems like he wants to say something, but Owen doesn't care. He pushes past him with a hostile air. They don't see much of each other after that.

A few weeks later, Owen has the worst day of his life. It begins innocently enough, with a minor rescue mission off a nearby coast. A small yacht has tipped over, probably due to the recklessness of the clueless tycoon who tried to sail it on his own. The soldiers unload passengers onto their submarine one by one via lifeboat, but as time goes on, there is a sinister sign from deep in the water. A rainbow-brown fluid is swirling beneath the waves. When it reaches the surface, Owen identifies it as some kind of oil.

Although Owen isn't particularly well-read, he knows that whenever foreign chemicals start showing up near failing vehicles, it's bad news. He rushes the remaining passengers away from the scene, but his lifeboat moves far too slowly. He can see traces of oil dripping from his oars. It's getting thicker. Owen doesn't care how the spill happened. His main concern is saving the innocent people aboard the sinking ship.

Finally, the last of the crew climbs up to the slanted deck. They're mostly sailors: the people who were being paid to assist the tycoon with his foolish endeavor. Owen is rowing towards them. He looks over his shoulder and sees them staring at him with worry.

Then the world erupts into fire.

Owen will never know what set the ship ablaze. When he comes to, he's lying on a cot and being examined by a nurse. She tells him that his burns aren't too bad, since he was just beyond the blast-radius. Owen asks about the men on the ship. Five of them died.

After this incident, Owen begins to question why he's even here. What's the point of being in the Navy if he can't save people? Well, when all is said and done, there is one person he's saving, and that is his mother. She writes to him occasionally, and although he'd never let the others see, he keeps her most recent letters on his person at all times. He pulls them out and reads them whenever he feels upset. He knows some of them by heart. On the day of the incident, he reads one of her letters multiple times.

Owen has never really felt powerless. He's felt directionless and aimless, but there has never been a moment when he's felt as though he had no way of making things right. For so long, he's been the only driving force behind what little success he has. It's been that way since his father left. Owen hasn't ever considered the possibility that there may come a time when there's nothing he can do to fix things. Now that he's allowed five innocent people to die, he's beginning to question how much control he actually has over his own life. The more he searches for answers, the more he begins to feel his defenses slipping away. What has he actually accomplished in his lifetime? If he were to die tomorrow, nobody would remember him. All he's done since he was five years old is survive. He hasn't had the luxury of doing much more. Although his finances are looking better, something is missing from his life. He misses his mother, and realizes that he was a lot happier when he had someone to love him.

Owen hasn't made a lot of meaningful connections in his life, mostly because he's been busy with more important things. Of course, he doesn't want to go back just because he's homesick. It's far wiser to stick to the original plan of making enough money to get out of the trashy little neighborhood he's lived in his entire life. He plans to buy a house for his mother, and after that, he'll try to find a real job. It won't be easy, of course, but with his work ethic, he might just be able to pull it off.

Life has a way of ruining plans. Just when Owen feels a glimmer of hope, something shatters his dreams in one fell swoop. Owen wasn't lying when he said that he wouldn't cry when his mother passed on, but even so, he comes pretty damn close.


	5. Adulthood

Owen doesn't speak for a long time. He doesn't really have any friends to talk to anyway. Some of his closer acquaintances find out what happened to his mother, but nobody approaches him about it. They assume he needs space.

Owen _does_ need space. He needs time to rethink his priorities, now that his only reason for being in the Navy is gone. Hell, his only reason for _living_ is gone. Now that his mother is no longer around, life will be a lot easier, but to what end? Owen can support himself, but he has no reason to. He has no greater purpose. His entire life, he's been shat upon by people with more success than he ever expects to have, but he kept telling himself that it was building up to something great. Now he knows that isn't true.

One day, when Owen is busy poking at his mashed potatoes, someone sits down beside him. It's the man who ratted him out. Owen doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. The man watches him move his meal around idly.

"You know, the point of having potatoes is to eat them."

Owen says nothing. He continues to look at his plate with the same dead expression he's been wearing for weeks.

"I'm sure you're having lots of fun playing with your food, but-"

"What do you want?" Owen asks monotonously.

The man puts his elbows on the table and adopts a serious expression.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"Why do _you_ care?"

"Because it's something that shouldn't happen to anybody."

Owen frowns and turns away. The man taps his fingers on the table impatiently.

"Are you gonna eat your potatoes?"

"No."

"You should."

"I don't care."

The man sighs. After a second, his face brightens.

"You know what's funny? My parents are very wealthy. They sent me here to learn about responsibility."

"What's so funny about that?"

"Do you know how they got rich?"

Owen shakes his head.

"Shampoo. They make shampoo. You might have seen my family name on a shampoo bottle. It's-"

Owen holds up his hand.

"Look, I'm not really in the mood for chitchat."

The man shrugs.

"In my experience, it helps to talk."

Owen snorts and shakes his head in disbelief.

"Well, in _my_ experience, talking gets you nowhere."

They sit quietly for a few minutes. The awkward silence soon becomes unbearable. Owen's lip twitches, and he puts his head in his hands.

"She died of a bad liver. I just feel like if I had been there . . . If I had just . . ."

He scrunches up his eyes and takes a deep breath. The man pats him on the back.

"Shit happens. It's not your fault."

"What if it is?"

"Then there's nothing you can do about it."

Owen hums.

"That's comforting."

The man smiles.

"It's nothing to be upset about. You can always try again. Tomorrow is another day."

Owen shakes his head.

"I can't bring my mother back . . ."

"But you can make sure that you never leave anyone you love again."

Owen slams his fist on the table.

"I don't love anyone. I don't even _like_ anyone. I'm all alone."

"You're not alone."

"Oh, yeah? How do you figure?"

"I'm here."

Owen rolls his eyes.

"Great. How does _that_ help?"

"Well, you have a friend now."

Owen raises his eyebrows.

"Friend? . . . _Friend_. That's a laugh. I don't even know your name."

"It's Barry."

Owen scoffs.

"Well, Barry, no offense, but I can't really see us becoming friends."

Of course, Owen has always been terrible at predicting the future. Not only do they become friends, but they become _best_ friends. For the next few years, they never spend more than a day away from each other. When they're done serving with the Navy, Owen becomes Barry's roommate. He offers to pay for half of the rent, but Barry will have none of it. He insists that Owen's hard-earned money should be spent on something he'll enjoy.

"Oh, come on! You must have wanted _something_ for yourself at one point."

Owen shakes his head.

"I never did. Wanting serves no purpose. You have to live within your means."

"Are you telling me that you _never_ had any personal treasures? Nothing you'd like to treat yourself with?"

Owen sighs.

"Well, when I was little, I had a bike . . ."

Barry rubs his chin.

"After years of serving in the military, you're going to buy a _bicycle_? I think not! Pop quiz: what's _better_ than a bicycle?"

The very next day, Owen buys a motorcycle. When he rides it, he feels happy. It's the kind of happiness that makes him realize that he hasn't truly been happy before. It's like a whole new level of ecstasy.

Things only get better from there. Without the stress of having to squeeze every penny, Owen can finally designate a fraction of his time to leisurely activities. He goes to bars, meets interesting people, and even makes a few friends. Through the years, Barry and Owen seldom have fights, and when they do, they never mean it. They become an unstoppable duo. If something needs to get done, they accomplish it in a heartbeat. That may be why they are approached by a man named Vic Hoskins with a job offer. He works for a company named InGen, and apparently they are looking to hire two individuals to work on a special project. Hoskins doesn't do a very good job of explaining himself. All Owen takes from the conversation is that the pay will be about fifty times greater than his current occupation. He accepts. Hoskins seems glad to have them on board, and gives them a greasy smile.

"Tell me: how do you two feel about animals?"


	6. Afterthoughts

Through a series of unusually surreal events, Owen finds himself transformed into a long-eared jerboa, a small desert rodent of the family Dipodidae. It's not even the weirdest thing that has happened to him on this particular day. And it's not just weird for him. He's not the only person who has spontaneously changed into an animal, and he won't be the last. Because of this strange occurrence, he finds himself in more danger than ever before. At the moment, he is tumbling through whitewater rapids like a bouncy ball in a washing machine. It's a miracle that he makes it out alive.

When he comes to, he's lying on a riverbank. His fur is dark and spiky because of the water, and he has very little body heat left. This is not his primary concern, as a large hybrid dinosaur is lying in front of him, motionless. Wincing as his aching bones begin to throb, Owen stands up and hops over to her weakly.

"Claire? . . ."

She doesn't respond. Her beak is slightly parted, and her sides aren't moving. Owen leans closer, placing his paw on her cheek.

" _Claire_? . . ." he whispers.

When she doesn't reply, Owen senses something stirring inside of his stomach. He feels hollow . . . No, it's _worse_ than being hollow. It's like there's a vacuum in his belly that's slowly causing him to implode. He doesn't know what to do. He feels so _helpless_ . . .

It dawns on him that he's screwed up big time. He really thought that things were going to go his way, but he was once again proven wrong. He's felt pain before, but never like this. It's making his eyes prickle.

Owen doesn't realize he's crying until the tears start to hit his long, long feet. Once he notices that he's doing it, he breaks down and starts sobbing openly. With a dismal limp, he hops over to a small rock and sits on it, burying his face in his paws. His ears droop over his back miserably as he shakes and shudders. He's not a man: he's a mouse, and now he's lost the only thing that ever mattered to him. _Again_.

But then something nudges him. It's a large, green tail. He jumps in surprise.

"You okay?"

When he turns around, he sees Claire staring back at him. He rushes forward and wraps his arms around her front horn without a moment's hesitation.

"You're alive!"

She shakes him off.

"Of course I'm alive, you dodo! Didn't you check for a pulse?"

He places his paws on her beak. He doesn't even care that he's crying in front of her.

"I thought you'd drowned!"

"Thought or hoped?"

Owen manages a smile.

"Don't ever die again, okay?"

"I'll try not to."

She stretches herself out painfully, and Owen crawls up to her frill, letting her warmth seep into his freezing body. Once he's made himself comfortable, he takes a deep breath.

"I guess this means we have to find another way to get back home, huh?"

He receives no reply, but he doesn't need one. As soon as they get moving, Claire seems to perk up a little bit. After a moment of silence, she looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you cry before."

Owen smiles.

"I don't think it will be the last time."

 **The End**


End file.
